


When We Were Young

by chrissy2



Series: When We Were Young [1]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 17:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17430503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrissy2/pseuds/chrissy2
Summary: Axl did not expect to fall for him this hard again. He thought he would never love that much again after his twenties, after the separation.Post reunion. Post Not In This Lifetime.





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I do not wish to portray the real-life persons in a bad light.

When they shared the stage again, after all these years--a slow, bitter, aching eternity--everything just fell back into place. Like all those years of separation, going back and forth at each other harshly through the media, never happened. Like they all just had an ordinary fight a few days ago.

(Izzy was still cut off, though. Maybe in time, he would be drawn in too. Had he really hated Axl that much. To be fair, Izzy was probably worse than Axl or Saul. He kicked Vince Neil's wife in the face for no fucking reason, for crying out loud.)

Axl didn't even stop to think about it until after the shows. It was like it was all subconscious, like it was anchored in their brains forever. When they got back on that stage together, Axl just clicked back to how he was when he was twenty--frolicking with the cool, concentrated, brooding Slash. He kept close to him, laid his head against his shoulder, his fluffy hairs. He lightly tapped his shoulder, gently tickled his sides. He smiled the most he had had in years.

After the shows, after the come downs (which were not as intense or as long as they used to be), the reality sunk in. They were not twenty. They were older. They gained weight. They were sagging. They were getting wrinkles. Their joints sometimes ached so badly, and it would just get worse with age. He really needed to start doing stretches and changing his diet. (Saul had been pondering about becoming a vegan. It was only his duty as an animal rights activist. To Axl, it sounded like a good idea for him to adopt too.) Their deafness and hard of hearing and fading voices would only get worse too. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to keep his screeching style.

The aging and fading and losing popularity wasn't so sad to Axl nor Saul. He only wished people would listen to what he really had to say, listen with their ears and not their eyes, gain the power to be critical of things they idolized instead of blindly following them. They certainly didn't want to feel what he felt when he had that little bar fight with David Lee Roth, the legendary frontman himself. They didn't punch each other or throw things (which was a relief for Sebastian Bach, the poor fucker they were fighting in front of), just screamed at each other. Dave later apologized for the fight, but still.

He tried speaking out against child abusers and that he was in no way homophobic or sexist or racist when he explained that multiple times.

(But yeah, quitting a show flat-out because some guy had a camera was just senseless. He had demons from that riot. He never forgave himself for it, and it's one of the things that really pushed him to get himself treated. If he didn't get treated, he would continue to destroy things and people around him, then ultimately, himself. Alone. Unheard. He hurt Slash and his family. He hurt everyone in the band. He hurt all the women he ever loved and ruined his chances of ever being happy.)

He spent most of his career disrespecting his fans, talking down to them, though in his mind, it was sensible to defy them. (His therapist concluded that this defiance and controlling nature came from subconsciously repeating the actions of his controlling stepfather.) And he spent so much of his life in the shadows. Why did so many people still like him so much. He was the "cry baby of the rock world", the embodiment of an artist that turned into a businessman and almost losing all of his humanity in the process, the sell-out.

He thought there must have been some people that actually listened to him after all, then. 

This train of thought, this complete misery, ate at him for many years. When he was truly alone. Avoiding nearly all contact and down-nosing intimacy.

Then Slash came back, welcomed him warmly. (Perla was the one that pushed him to it, he said. She knew that if he did not forget and forgive, it would ruin him just as much. He didn't want to be that tragic character, didn't he? The one that could have made things better if he didn't swallow his pride. But he was lacking pride now that he was older. Same with Axl. It wasn't that they were old and cold. The anger just went away. They were all calm now. Content. Perla and him both got some therapy and understood themselves more than ever.)

Then Slash gave Axl his number through a mutual friend at Coachella. Cellular technology was frowned upon by a lot of people their age, but it had its benefits; especially for people like them, who were shyly inching towards the idea of forgiving their enemies and just starting over casually. 

They started talking in the spring. How appropriate. As soon as they got over the churning in their stomachs and shakes (even though they were just fucking texting?), the funny conversations also naturally clicked into place. They started touring again, performing, hanging out in the dressing rooms, and ultimately inviting each other to their homes.

That empty feeling went away. Just like that. It was as easy as falling. 

That ache would blossom into that wholesome feeling from long, long ago. That love. Pure love. That feeling you have when you are positive you have found the answer to existing; that life is more than just being born, working, then death.

The first few times they laid together in Axl's large, quiet, empty homes--Axl just cried. It was embarrassing, but he just couldn't stop. (But he's glad that he cries now. He used to not cry ever. Just bottled it all up and wound up destroying everything he could get his hands on.) It was Axl laying on his back and Saul hovering over him, partly leaning onto Axl, partly on the bed, so close his curls are tickling his face a little. Below him, Axl is a tearful, sniffling mess. He didn't know if he was crying for all the times lost, or because he was so incredibly happy that it overwhelmed him. Or knowing that if he were to lose Saul--really lose him, no coming back--he would truly never love again. He would die.

He was so confused. He couldn't understand how and why after all these years, Saul looked at him like he looked at Perla.

When he looked liked this.

Who could ever love this.

When they were with Perla and their little ones (oh my god, they looked and acted just like him), they were laughing and having the time of their lives. Axl actually preferred to hang out with him and his family, but Saul sometimes insisted on--this. When it was just the two of them in Axl's circles, neither of them said a word, and did nothing but lie there until Axl cried himself to sleep. He was usually the first to go to sleep and the first to wake up in the morning, then shifted over onto his side, Slash up against his back and his arms locked around him. Axl wonders how long it takes for Saul to sleep after him. Long ago, when they were younger, in a time like this, when they just laid together like this (but back then, it was probably in a bus or motel room), Slash was especially tender one night. He confessed that he sometimes just watched Axl sleep, watched him breathe. Evidently, he was still doing it now.

Maybe one of these days, Axl will stop crying, stop worrying about everything, and just accept that maybe everything will be alright. Maybe one of these days, he won't shy away when Saul possessively grabs his head and kisses him. Maybe he won't push his hand away when he snakes his calloused finger tips up his shirt. 


End file.
